A Fifth-Grade Fundraiser
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: Mr. Simmons pressures Arnold and Helga to participate in a dance contest for the waltz. With five hundred dollars and their romance at stake, who would dare to interfere with the duo's plans? Olga Pataki, that's who!
1. Chapter 1

**Note to readers. Read "Scrapbooks" first. It will make more sense.**

The classroom for P.S. 118's fifth grade class was, without a doubt, one of the most worn out, run down, oldest classrooms in the entire school building. The grey of the concrete wall was showing in places where the paint had chipped off. Many of the desks were held together with little more than a prayer. One of the lights was a taped off socket so the rear of the classroom was perpetually bathed in shadow. Most of the chairs sat unevenly on the floor because of lost metal feet, so that they tipped like a rocking chair as weight was shifted on them. The drawers in the teacher's desk stuck so badly they didn't open even if Mr. Simmons used both hands to try to open them. Except once, when the drawer had shot open, startling him. In short, nothing worked!

Most importantly, the classroom needed new textbooks. The ones Mr. Simmons found on the shelf at the rear of the debilitated room had more graffiti in them than math problems. Also, these tomes had endured ten years of abuse at the hands of schoolchildren. So much so that when Sid lifted his math book up off his desk on the first day back from summer recess, the spine split in two halves and dropped to the floor. It was enough to make Mr. Simmons almost cuss, "oh, fudge!" More embarrassingly, Harold Berman had opened up the class history book from their new "reading nook" and read his own parents names penned into the back cover with a little heart shape inked around them. Harold had frowned and squinted at the ancient graffiti with a disgusted look.

"Ew! Spew!" he had spat while dropping the offending classroom book. Stinky Peterson had nodded sympathetically over his friend's shoulder. "Now that's a history lesson!" the boy declared in his slow southern drawl.

It was the beginning of fifth grade. Because Arnold's class was known to be a notorious, rowdy bunch, it had been decided amongst the faculty that Mr. Simmons would be continue to teach his fourth grade class for a new year. This meant a move to a new classroom and whole new curriculum. But as glad Mr. Simmons was to stay with his old class, he was discovering plenty of reasons to frown. As glad as he was to see his old students, a little older and with fresh sun bronzed faces, they murmured unhappily at their new surroundings. Especially Rhonda.

"Ugh! This simply won't do!" she said tipping her chair sideways then righting it for the millionth time. Every time she crossed her legs, the support of her own leg was lost and the chair nearly turned. After the fifth time, Mr. Simmons stood up and moved to his old podium. The podium was something he himself provided to the classroom because it was his "style" to give lectures like a university professor.

"Rhonda! Here you go. You can use my seat for now," said Mr. Simmons. He scratched his chin as Rhonda silently took the chair and arranged it behind her desk. The girl sat behind her desk, much calmer.

"You know class, I think we are going to have to do something to… ahh, make our classroom more comfortable!" said Mr. Simmons, mincing his words in case Principal Wartz overheard. He did not want to upset their moody Principal by telling him outright that the room they had been assigned was terrible. Mr. Simmons held his hands clapped together and grinned his fake, nervous grin as he waited for his students response.

"We can protest!" one of the this year's new students said, waggling a fist. But Mr. Simmons pressed his hands down in two gentle sweep. The gesture was a calming motion, a symbol for "settle down!"

"Now class," said Mr. Simmons going to the board and writing, "Ideas," on it in big wide, chalk letters. "The school budget for this year," said Mr. Simmons wringing the collar on his neck, "is extremely thin. We're going to have to find a way to raise money for the supplies ourselves. Any ideas?"

"A fundraiser!" said Rhonda leaning both hands forward across her desk. Her eyes glittered. "Mummy and Daddy will come and spend lots of money!" Mr. Simmons smiled. This was sounding promising already.

"A bake sale!" said Sheena. But Rhonda puffed out her breath in disgust.

"A bake sale?! Oh, please! We need something bigger, flashier! Like a Gala Ball!"

"It's a little early in the year for dances," thought Mr. Simmons. "Hm. How about a contest?"

"What kind of contest?" asked Sid. He and Stinky looked at one another, interested, but wary of the idea.

"A pie-eating contest!" said Stinky rubbing his belly with hunger.

"An all-you-can eat chili cook-off!" shouted Harold rubbing his greedy hands together. But Rhonda Lloyd was being evil.

"A dance contest!" she said looking up from her painted nails to unroll a magazine from her bookbag. "It's all the Nouveaux, right now!" On the cover of the famed magazine was a tall, thin man in a tux dancing with a woman in a crinkly red dress.

"I dunno. I think we should all shoot some hoops!" said Gerald. Arnold stared hard at the magazine Rhonda waved in his face.

"That's charming, Princess," Helga muttered coming late to class. She appeared at the door with one bowtie lopsided and her dress covered in mud. With a scowl she prowled up to Rhonda Lloyd at the desk right behind Arnold's. "That's nice, Princess," Helga repeated with bone-chilling stillness. "Now get out of my seat!" Rhonda Loyd clutched her magazine to her chest and stood up in a hurry. Then she walked up with a sniff, her nose in the air.

"Alright, alright! No need to get worked up about it!" Rhonda said before moving to the third row. Helga sunk deep into her territory, unlatched the desk top and poured all her things into the desk from her bookbag before reaching up to fix her pigtail. Arnold leant his elbow against the back of his chair. Half-turned, he dragged his curious eyes up and down Helga's bedraggled state.

Hi, Helga," he began nonchalantly. "You're late. Did something happen to you on the way to school?"

"Oh, nothing much, Arnoldo," said Helga, a little cross still but smiling softly at her favorite boy. She was a lot calmer these days, since more often than not she spent them with her 'friend' Arnold. "Miriam put all my good dresses in the washer and forgot to dry them. By the time they were dry I had to run 'cause I missed the bus. Then I split my lunchbox thanks to some crazy bicyclist," said Helga rolling her eyes, "so I stopped by the minimart to buy lunch. Then some truck mucked me with a puddle."

"That's too bad" Arnold remarked before lifting up his hand to point. "Uh, Helga, your hair is still a little crooked," the boy said lifting up a hand to try to straighten the pigtail himself. But Helga scooted back and lifted up a hand to block Arnold's own. Her cheeks flushed. She fiddled with the tie to her pigtail quickly, yanking it tighter.

"That's okay, Arnold. I've got it!" she declared before lowering her hands to the desk again. Helga took a deep, heavy sigh to slow her rapidly beating heart. But Rhonda Lloyd watched the encounter. Her evil grin spread as she thrust the magazine in Helga's face.

"Helga. You and Arnold make SUCH good dancers! Wouldn't you like the chance to dance again at our fundraiser?"

"What fundraiser?" asked Helga. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she instinctively took the magazine from Rhonda's hand as the girl offered it to her.

"The fundraiser to remodel our classroom of course! And get new books! These tacky surroundings simply won't do!" said Rhonda gesturing to an orange bookshelf the same shade as a construction yard cone. Helga's eyes darted around the room.

"A fundraiser, huh? Not a bad idea. These digs are mighty shaggy!" Mr. Simmons smiled.

"Well then, class it's decided! Our first fundraiser will be a neighborhood dance competition! We'll have separate divisions for grownups and for students! Arnold. Helga. I hope that as our classes' celebrity dancers," Mr. Simmons said with a wink, "you'll be the first to sign up for the competition."

"What do we win?" asked Helga slapping the magazine face down on her desk as she leaned forward. "Is there a good prize?"

"Well," said Mr. Simmons thinking. "I have to work things out with the faculty, but I believe we could sell tickets and collect small entry fees to make a cash prize of say, oh, five hundred dollars?" Mr. Simmons offered in the manner of bargaining. There were whispers of interest around the room instantly.

"Five hundred dollars! Boy howdy!" said Sid.

"Arnold, you've got to enter that competition!" Gerald whispered from his chair. He, too, sat in the first row of desks, but to the left. "You're a pretty mean dancer! You'll win for sure! Five hundred dollars!" Gerald ended dreamily. He lifted a hand up in thought. "Ya know, maybe I'll enter myself." But so far, Arnold had not agreed to anything. Instead he kept his brooding silence for as long he was able.

"So!" said Rhonda Lloyd loud enough for the entire room to hear. "Are you going to enter, Arnold?" But Arnold frowned a nervous smile instead of smiling.

"I'll think about," he said. Then he picked up a loose pencil from his desk top and began to scribble on a blank sheet of paper.

The air between Arnold and Helga had become tense. For the remainder of the day, they avoided one another. The next day they both agreed that Mr. Simmons had forgotten all about the contest and became good friends again. Then, when Mr. Simmons finally hung a poster for the event on their classroom door, they both rushed over to see it so fast they both nearly knocked one another over by bumping shoulders. Rubbing away the bruises, they fell silent to read. It was official then. The dancing competition was really going to happen.

"It isn't tango," Helga breathed out in relief. Arnold nodded.

"Yeah."

While the tango they had shared at the April's Fool's Party had been sweet indeed, it had been almost TOO pleasurable. After that dance, both of them had been left with a super-charged high of emotion. The cool pool water had helped them both to dull their raw attraction to one another. But long after the event, a bit of flame sputtered. Neither Arnold nor Helga were keen on reviving it from embers. They feared the invitation to a romantic moment because the crush they shared with one another these days was a forbidden topic. Their secret. Like FTI, the April Fool's dance, too, had threatened to sweep their truce of friendship away with something of a more wild nature.

They both longed to forget, just to gain a bit of sanity between them. But for a mere moment, the two ten year olds stood, exchanging a glance. They relived the memories. The flames smoldered between them in their eyes until abruptly, they both looked away at the same time to clear their throats. Then, calmer now, they both looked at the poster again.

"It's a waltz. So?" asked Arnold as calmly as he could manage it. "Should we sign up? I'd hate to disappoint Mr. Simmons."

"It's five hundred dollars!" said Helga. "Of course we'll sign up! But how to do we break the money? Fifty-fifty?"

"Uh, Helga that's presuming we even win the contest," said Arnold opening the door and holding it wide so they could enter the classroom. He sat down at his desk. "Let's worry about signing up first."

"No way, Arnoldo.' said Helga surprising him, as always. "I'm not signing up for anything with you until we've got a deal in place! Phoebe!" belted out Helga. Her loyal subordinate came nearer.

"Yes, Helga?"

"Draw me up a basic contract. Arnold and Helga. Fifty-fifty, equal parts partnership! I want your signature on this so you don't back down!" Helga gave Arnold her most piercing look. The newly astonished boy rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Helga. If it makes you happy."

"It's finished!" Phoebe Heyerdahl chirped before shuffling a sheet of three-ring notebook paper into Helga's hand. She studied it, then endorsed the page herself. Then, with a glare, Helga held the page out to Arnold to take.

"Sign it Football-Head!" she snapped. Arnold sighed and took out his own pen, looping his signature on the page.

"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold said, offering the paper back to Helga. She handed it to Phoebe.

"File it, Phoebe!" Helga snapped with glee.

"Right!" said Phoebe. She handed the document to Curly who ran around the room in circles showing it to people. "File it, file it!" Curly shouted madly before handing the sheet off to Lorenzo, who stuffed it inside his briefcase.

"Okay," said Arnold shaking off the shock of the weird way of doing things those in his classroom had worked out. He turned back to Helga.

"Well, since this is a waltz, it should be easier. But have you ever danced the waltz before, Helga?" the boy asked keenly. He kept his gaze firmly on Helga's so that she could not squirm away from answering.

"No, I haven't," Helga answered with honesty.

"Right," said Arnold. His throat was full as he spoke, as though he had come to an important decision. And he had. "In that case, how about you come over to my house after school tonight? We should practice. My grandma is a pretty good dance instructor. She'll have you waltzing like a queen in no time!" Arnold promised boldly. But he was that confident in his Grandmother's abilities. Helga flushed pale.

"Your house? Well….ah...ahh.. I guess I sorta could do that Football-Head," said Helga sinking low in her chair as she spoke. "But just to practice our dancing!" Helga flushed a deep scarlet when she realized she had just used the word, "our," out loud!

"Great!" said Arnold who now was feeling awkward himself. He turned back toward the blackboard and busied himself with notes.

To prepare for a contest was no little thing for either of them. Both Arnold and Helga had too much pride to fight for anything but first place. So it was that Helga skipped her bus stop. She waited until the school bus drove all the way to Vine Street and paused in front of the Sunset Arms Boarding House. Then she followed Arnold so timidly off the bus that Arnold could not help but stare, his eyes as wide as they could go as Helga fiddled with the strap of her schoolbag and looked at her little white shoes.

"Uh, Helga? It's okay. You've been here a million times before," Arnold remarked. It was true. Helga had hung out on the street outside Arnold's house countless times, skipping rope or playing baseball with the other kids. There was a whole bunch of times Helga had snuck into the house for one reason or another. On two occasions, Helga had even entered the house by invitation. The first instance was during a school project. She and Arnold had unpleasantly lost their egg for their school project before it was found. Then second visit came when Arnold's entire class had borrowed his living room to watch the documentary that had been made about their ninth-grade class. Helga's quiet evaporated instantously. She balled both fists against her waist and snapped.

"Well, all this is your idea, Arnold! Don't blame me if I stink!" Helga finished flipping her pigtail back as she stopped to stare off into the distance with her arms crossed. Arnold blinked.

"I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time. You're a fast learner," Arnold said standing aside of his front door to let the usual stream of pets pour out of it. Then, when it was safe, he strode through the door followed by Helga. He flicked on the hall light.

"Grandpa? Grandma! I'm home!" Arnold shouted to the interior, then shrugged. The boarding house was large and he often had to play hide and seek to find them. Arnold dropped his schoolbag on the kitchen table and took out a package of crackers. He stuck his hand inside and pulled out a handful of wafers, then offered the box to Helga. "You want some?" Arnold asked politely before stuffing several crackers into his mouth at once.

"Wow. You're sure hungry," remarked Helga. She delicately selected a single cracker from the box and threw it into her mouth with a flip. Arnold shrugged.

"I don't know. All of a sudden these days, I have an enormous appetite. It's like I can't eat enough or something."

"Well," said Helga her eyes sparkling, "that's good! It means that your legs might grow a little!" She pointed down at Arnold's legs and he narrowed his eyes in a mildly cross expression.

"Maybe," the boy answered carefully to avoid sounding offended. He replaced the cracker box back onto the kitchen shelf. "Come on, let's find Grandma."

The two schoolchildren paced the downstairs of the boarding house. They spotted Phil fiddling in the basement with one of the washers, but Arnold did not feel like hearing his Grandpa's wisecracks right now. Who knows what he would say in front of Helga? Instead, Arnold softly tread the carpeted stair up to the second floor. Grandma was just about to vacuum the hall. Arnold stepped carefully across the vacuum's cord.

"Grandma!" he uttered loudly before his Grandma could switch the machine on. "I really need your help with a project for school! Could you teach Helga to dance?" Arnold held his breath. His Grandmother blinked at the blond-haired girl behind him. Then she moved in on Helga like a hurricane.

"Why Eleanor!" said Pookie grabbing hold of Helga in a firm hug. "I'm so glad you could come and join us! You've got to stay for dinner!"

"Eleanor?" Arnold asked out loud. His Grandma's nickname for Helga never made any sense. But then again, she seldom did. Arnold tried again.

"Look Grandma," Arnold explained. "Helga and I need to go to a dance competition to earn money for our school! We'd really like to win. So will you help us?" His Grandmother's soft grin grew wider.

"Of course, Arnold!" Pookie declared. "I'd glad to! You be Prince Rudolf and she can be Princess Marguerite! I'll get the two of you ready for your costume ball!"

"Costume ball. Right," said Arnold, slightly flustered. At least his Grandma wasn't making him dress up as a raja in a turban and cloak. But alas, his Grandmother did have props. For Helga, she made her wear a pink frock much more lacy and more draping than her usual wear. It had to be pinned up from where it draped on the floor. For himself, a jacket of sky blue with a hideously wide collar sufficed.

"Can we dance now?" said Arnold impatiently as his Grandmother finished the last of her pins. Helga stepped down from her box.

"Of course, Prince Rudolf!" his Grandma said, unrelentless in her pursuit of characters. She lifted Helga's hand and thread it together with Arnold's. Helga was forced to shuffle closer until Arnold could grasp hold of her waist. Helga's eyes fixed on Arnold's face, wide-eyed and scared.

"Just relax and follow the footsteps. Listen to the music in your head!" Arnold advised. He already knew the waltz himself. It was merely a matter of getting Helga to memorize it, too. Grandma Pookie flipped the switch button of the tape cassette. A full second after its pleasing click, the tape wound and began to play. Grandma Pookie waved her fingers above her head as though directing an orchestra. "That's the way, Arnold! One-two-three, one- two-three!" she declared with a grin.

Arnold and Helga danced for twenty blissful, emotionally painful minutes. The crush they held in both their hearts came out in their shoes and it took all of Helga's reserves not to sag against Arnold's chest and sigh in delight. Similarly, it took all of Arnold's mastery of himself not to pull Helga further into his arms than required. At the very last, when the tape cassette ended, he did indulge himself by bowing down and kissing Helga's fingertips softly. But then, it was over, and he had to let her go.

"So," said Grandma Pookie with a shrewd grin. "Would you like to stay for dinner, Eleanor?"

"Oh no! I couldn't!" Helga protested. But Arnold had been energized with hope by his Grandmother's suggestion. His hair stood up on end and he stood up straight and taller than usual. The opportunity appealed to him.

"Oh yes! Please stay for dinner Helga!" Arnold mumbled out quickly. "If we start now, you can be home before sunset! You can use our phone to call your parents if you have to!" Arnold promised. Helga slouched forward, her hands held against the sides of her hips and her long, black monobrow tried to work out Arnold's behavior. For once it almost seemed he was... glad that she was tagging along. Come to think of it, he had been that way all summer. Helga shook her head softly, clearing it.

"So, Football-Head!" she said with a soft grin. "Whaddya have for eats?"

"Let's go cook it and find out!" said Arnold following his Grandma.

"Me? Cook?' asked Helga pointing to herself.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Arnold amended quickly. "You can just watch!"

"I'll do that," said Helga. Yet, when sat down at the kitchen table and found a pot of unpeeled potatoes nearby, Helga found herself reaching for the peeler.

"You don't have to do that!" Arnold protested. "You're the guest!"

"Yeah?" said Helga waggling the potato peeler at him. "Well, I'm a champin' potato peeler, thanks to Olga! I can peel this pan of potatoes in no time flat!" said Helga proving her words. Arnold and his Grandma bustled around the kitchen and soon dinner was in the oven, baking. Arnold left the kitchen to set the dining room table. Helga stood up.

"Hm," she said rummaging through the cupboard. She pulled out a can of yams and stared at it. Then she pulled out a bag of flour. "Do you mind if I borrow the kitchen for a few minutes, Grandma?" she said. Pookie smiled.

"Of course you can!" she said. "I'll help!"

Dinner was a loud and noisy affair in the boarding house, as usual. It was especially chaotic in that dinner was called at six instead of seven because of Helga. Arnold rang the chime, then sat at his chair with his hands folded as the boarders filed in. He expected quite a few excited shouts because of Helga, but Grandpa had appeared on the scene. Hence, Arnold was rescued.

"Oh, leave the boy alone!" The head of the household snapped. "'The boy can have a friend over if he wants to!" Helga perched nervously on a chair beside Arnold. Then Grandma Pookie came in carrying a large roast chicken on a platter.

"Ohh!" said Mr. Hyunh, impressed. "What's the occasion?"

"Why, Eleanor of course!" said Grandma nimbly returning with a bowl of mashed potatoes. "It's so good for her to find happiness again after what happened to poor Mr. Roosevelt!"

"Right," said Arnold shuffling his eyes away. As ever, his Grandma was a little batty. But Helga didn't say a word. She grabbed a dinner roll instead.

"I call seconds on the chicken!" she said. "If there is any," she said admiring the large group. "Wow, Arnold! Your family is huge!" Arnold stared back at Helga in shock. A thought like that had never occurred to him. Ever.

"I guess you could say that," the boy mumbled. He offered Helga a smile in gratitude.

The rare treat of a fresh baked, plump, buttered chicken disappeared within ten minutes. It was torn apart to shreds rapidly, but then Arnold's Grandma surprised Helga by walking around the table to hand her the wishbone. The Y-shaped chicken bone had been cleaned of meat and was a grisly gift, but Helga accepted it all the same.

"Here you go, Eleanor!" said Grandma. "A wishbone! I loved to crack these things when I was a little girl! If you make a wish on it as you break it, then your wish will come true! But you have to keep it a secret!" Grandma Pookie ended with a wink. Helga held up her odd gift.

"Uh, sure. Thank you," she said holding up the bone into the lamplight. Arnold caught the second side of the Y.

"Share?" the boy offered, surprisingly Helga.

"Uh, sure," Helga muttered.

"Then twist!" said Arnold adding pressure to the chicken bone. "In the opposite direction! Did you make a wish?" he asked as the bone splintered with a satisfying snap.

"Er. Yeah," said Helga rolling her eyes away. But the only wish that had been in her head had been to be with Arnold forever. She had felt so little time to think! If only she had wished for a million dollars or something…. Then maybe all of this would be simpler. Not that she believed in chicken bones. At that moment, a timer went off and Helga got up.

"You wait here!" she demanded, then left the table. Five minutes later, Helga walked back into the boarding house dining room with two oven mitts and a steaming hot pie. With an arrogant smirk, Helga plopped it down on the table in front of Arnold.

"What do you think about that?" Helga bragged as she grinned devilishly. Arnold stared at the pie.

"You made this?"

"Yeah. It's yam. You didn't have any pumpkin but if you use yams in the same recipe for pumpkin pie, it pretty much tastes the same."

"I didn't know you knew how to cook!" said Arnold still staring at the cooling pie. He chopped out a large hunk with his knife and laid it on his plate.

"I picked some stuff up from that nanny," said Helga, reluctant to mention Ingrad. "Then after that I pretty much taught myself. The old Boob-Tube helped, of course," said Helga referring to the television. She had added cooking shows to her schedule of television viewing. "I guess I realized that I'd better become more self-sufficient. What with Miriam being so unreliable." Arnold stared as he absorbed Helga's long explanation.

"Well, I think it's great!" Arnold offered as compliment before digging a fork into the cooling pie. He spooned it experimentally in his mouth. His lips rounded out into a broad smile and he dug into the pie for a larger forkful.

"This is great, Helga!" repeated Arnold "Thank you!" He gobbled down the first piece. Across the table, Mr. Kokoshka reached for the pie, but Helga snatched it up in a flash.

"Oh no!" she said incensed. "This pie is for Arnold!" Arnold swallowed a mouthful, then wiped his chin with a napkin.

"You can make me another pie, tomorrow, Helga," Arnold offered, trying to make peace between Helga and the boarders. "How about this? I have one more piece, and they can share the rest?" Arnold grinned, trying to win Helga over to his side.

"Fine!" the girl snapped. She sawed out an enormous pie piece for Arnold's plate. Then she slid the pie tin across the table toward the boarders. But there was only half the pie remaining. The pie piece she had made for Arnold had been one-third of the entire pie! The portions the rest of them would be getting were mighty small. But mention of tomorrow had reminded Helga of something. She checked her watch.

"Well, I'd better be going, Arnoldo," said Helga standing behind his chair with one hand on the uppermost wooden rung. "See ya tomorrow?"

"Sure," said Arnold without a smile this time. The afternoon had flown by far too quickly.

"It's no fair, Arnold!" wailed Mr. Kokoshka as Helga shut the front door. "Your sweetheart is mean to me!" the middle-aged man complained loudly. But Arnold didn't look sympathetic. Instead, he took a spoonful of his pie.

"She's mean to everyone," Arnold tossed as if it was no big deal. "Get used to it." He finished his pie and leaned back in his chair, content. Grandma and Grandpa both bent their heads close together. They had to share a smile for that!

The day had been like a fantasy for Helga, but the pleasant dream were about to end. When she swung open the front door to her house, Helga expected no one to care about her absence as usual. But there in the entrance hall stood Olga Pataki, her mascara blurred and runny.

"Baby Sis!" shouted Olga as she launched toward Helga in a frantic hug. "Where have you been! When you didn't arrive home on the school bus, I was so afraid for you Baby Sis!" said Olga, a few fresh tears leaking down her face as she crushed Helga unpleasantly in a tight bearhug. Helga grit her teeth and tried to get a breath of fresh air. When she managed that, she worked her arms free enough to shove Olga away.

"Woah, woah! I'm fine, Olga! I just was over at Ar… I mean, a friend's house. We had dinner."

"Wait!" said Olga standing still as if thunderstruck, her elegant hand lain across the cheek of her face and her other hand on the edge of her skirt as she posed on one toe. "You were having dinner at a boy's house!"

"I didn't say it was a boy!" spat Helga, trying to cover her mistake. But Olga continued on regardless.

"A boy?! Dear, sweet Baby Sis! So young and so innocent! To be exposed to the heartache of love at such a tender age!" Helga watched her sister, wide-eyed. Her parents had never given a rats when she had gone out or with whom. They had no idea she had gone on dates or had a temporary boyfriend at age nine. But apparently Olga was different.

"I must protect you from this!" Olga raged on in dramatic fervor. "I must talk to mummy and daddy about this! You must simply not be allowed to date anyone until you are at least sixteen!" said Olga Pataki shaking her head proudly. Then she whirled about on her toes and pranced off into the living room of the Pataki house to find their parents.

Olga pranced away with a delighted smile on her angelic face. Helga watched, her jaw a gap in horror. Then she bolted up to her room and locked the door. Helga ripped open her cellphone and rapidly dialed a now familiar number. 555-123. The phone rang. Arnold picked up on the other side of the line.

"Hello?" he said, wondering who might be calling.

"Arnold!" Helga whispered, her hand curled around her mouth and the phone. "We've got a problem! You know how we're supposed to practice dancing tomorrow? Well, it looks like I'm not gonna make it," she said before diving into a rapid explanation.

"You're kidding me!" said Arnold when Helga's explanation was through.

"No, I'm not."

"Well, you're right," said Arnold with a long, deep sigh. "This is going to be a problem! We'll talk about it at school tomorrow. Don't worry, Helga," said Arnold. "We'll find some way to practice for the dance contest."

"Okay. Bye," said Helga hanging up the phone. But it wasn't just the dance contest that had Helga worried! She opened her closet door and knelt before her Arnold shrine.

"Oh blasphemy!" said Helga curling her wrist across her unibrow in tortured lament. "Sixteen, Olga? Are you really to make me your foe, standing between me and my one, true love?" said Helga pulling out the Arnold locket from around her neck and giving it a fond kiss. Helga put the locket away and fisted her hand instead.

"No!" the pink-bowed girl shouted to no one but herself and her shrine. "Not when I am so close to my beloved! I must thwart my sister's bossy, all-knowing schemes! Oh Arnold! My love!" she wisted. But there was little Helga could do about the problem now. As Arnold Shortman had stated, they would have to talk about it at school tomorrow. Between the two of them, of course they would craft a plan to outwit Olga Pataki!


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2! Things get dramatic for poor Arnold and Helga!**

Helga was counting on Arnold. The night before, her sister Olga (a.k.a. Miss Mary Sunshine, Princess, Do-gooder, Know-it-all, Smartie-Pants and whole other host of ill names) had pranced right into the living room of the Pataki household with the intention of ripping Helga's romantic life to ribbons.

"Young lady! Get down here!" Big Bob had bellowed as soon as Helga had hung up her phone on Arnold. She flinched. Then she forced herself to open her bedroom door. It was a long march down to the living room and some of the constant anxiety that caused Helga digestive troubles rose, making her feel sick. Yet she marched on all the same, her brow an unflinching scowl to hide the pain she was feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"What?" said Helga folding her arms. Like a turtle that did not want to move, she waited, poised to find out what her parents had in store for her now.

"Sit down!" Big Bob barked at the small girl who refused to flinch. "You and I are are going to have a talk! Your sister Olga," said Big Bob with an approving glance towards Olga (who was smiling and wiggling her fingers with glee at Helga's expense), "just told me all about the secret life you've been living. Well, I won't have it! Olga's right! I won't have people going around saying that my daughter is a tramp!"

"A trollop!" added Miriam while sipping a smoothie from a straw. It looked like she was going to pass out any minute, and considering she was still standing, that was gonna hurt.

"But Dad!" Helga began beseechingly. But all she got was a wave of dismissal.

"Don't you dare argue with me, young lady!" said Big Bob sternly. "I've got the reputation of the family name on the line, here! Do you know what bad PR would do to my company? You WILL NOT shame the name of Pataki! You hear!" Big Bob commanded like a general. Helga was too angry to flinch now.

"I'm not shaming anything! Olga…"

"Olga is looking out for you. Like a sister should!"

"...is exaggerating things! It's not a romance!" blurted out Helga. "I'm only hanging out my school friends for classroom assignments! Really!" Helga said hoping to look convincing. Big Bob rubbed his chin. Then he looked his daughter up and down, taking in the sight of her in careful study.

"Hm. Well you do seem a little too young still to be gung-ho about romances," Big Bob reasoned to himself. "Alright! We'll forget what you did this one time! But you had better not go over to any more boy's houses! Is that clear?"

"Clear as mud," Helga muttered bitterly. She and Arnold had an enormous wall between them now!

"And just to be sure, Olga is going to babysit you when you get home from school from now on. She's decided to move back now that she's done with college!"

"That's right, baby sister!" said Olga giving Helga a big squeeze. "It's you and me from now on, every day!" Helga felt sicker than ever. Her guts were tied up in knots so painful, she wanted to sag to the ground instead of standing. Doubled over as if stabbed, she glared back at her father.

"Yes, Dad," she muttered out hoping to leave the room.

The next morning, Helga slammed her locker door shut and prowled down the hall. So forceful of hand was she that when she found a locker door in her way, Helga slammed it, trapping a shrimpy third-grader inside. Helga jostled past the girl with the rainbow T-shirt, knocking her to the ground and her armful of papers flying. Like tornado amid the drifting pages, Helga whirled and stomped over to her classroom door. Wrenching it open, Helga stared inside with menace. All of her fellow students of Mr. Simmon's class froze, immediately petrified. Harold sunk low into his seat and gulped.

"Mommy!" Harold said before praying.

"Uh-oh!" said Sid leaning just enough forward to whisper to Stinky Peterson. "Helga's got it in for someone!"

"I reckon yer right!" said Stinky. "Well, it was nice knowing 'em!" As a whole, everyone drew back, their breaths held, as Helga entered to the room to stop in front of who else but Arnold?

"Come'er!" Helga yelled, dragging Arnold up by the arm. She might have pinched more forcefully but Arnold scrambled to his feet and let himself be yanked away into the hall. The classroom door slammed shut behind them.

"Well," said Sid. "It looks like Helga is finally going to kill Arnold!"

"Yep. Might as well start planning the funeral!" Stinky agreed. Sid took his backwards ballcap off his head.

"A moment of silence!" The boy bowed, bending his head down in sorrow. Stinky did the same. Then Sid slapped the the ballcap back on his head.

"I call first dips on his DVD player!" Sid hollered.

"No, I git' first dips!" Stinky complained pointing a thumb back at himself. Sid and Stinky almost pressed noses to glare at one another.

But contrary to what Sid and Stinky thought, Helga wasn't angry with Arnold. She did drag Arnold down the hall to the upper janitor closet and slammed the door behind them. Her feet stumbled over the yellow rolling mop bucket a bit but Helga righted herself and then, the angry face fell away like a mask and two twins river of tears rose instead.

"Arnold, it's over. Olga's won! My life is ruined!"

"Calm down Helga!" Arnold protested trying to draw down the arms she had lifted overhead. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Everything!" said Helga. "My big, stupid, know-it-all sister has convinced my parents that I can't be trusted on my own! Ever! And she's here to stay!" said Helga, her arms flailing.

"Calm down, Helga!" said Arnold. "We talked a bit about this on the phone last night and well, we can work around it."

"What you mean 'work around it'?!" Helga fretted. She grit her teeth, waiting for Arnold's explanation of himself.

"Well, I just mean that it isn't the end of the world. We'll still see each other at school. And then, you playing baseball should be okay, shouldn't it? Your sister is welcome to sit on the bleachers and watch the game if she likes."

"But what about the dancing?!" said Helga grimaced. Arnold's face fell and hers did, too. They both realized it was about more than just dancing. It was the loss of all those private moments together that they faced. The little encounters that made their life magic. Olga was more than a third wheel. She was a road block.

"Maybe I can talk to your sister!" said Arnold holding a hand to his heart. "You know, convince her I'm a gentleman!"

"Hmph. When pigs fly! Do you think Olga's really going to buy that?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"I don't know! She's Olga! She likes to make my life miserable!"

"Well, we can try," said Arnold. "How about this? We all meet up at some restaurant on Saturday and talk. We can show her the flyer for the contest. I'm sure she won't say no to us meeting if she knows our reasons."

"Humph!" said Helga folding her arms. But she looked calmer. "Well we can try it your way, Arnold-Dough!" Helga jabbed a finger in his direction. "But you had better be right!"

On Saturday afternoon, Helga showed up to the restaurant in a strange yellow dress she had never worn before. It matched the dress that Olga Pataki was wearing and the yellow daisies in Olga's hair. Eyes and smile wide with joy, Olga reached out her arms to embrace the sight of the restaurant before her.

"Pancakes and Halibut! Oh, this is my favorite restaurant! You're going to love it here, Helga! Their menu is so unique! So… créatif!" Helga looked up at the restaurant before them with grief.

"Great Olga, great," she muttered. Soon they were seated in a table.

"Oh, and I recommend the seaweed with blackberry sauce!" said Olga rambling. She patted her cheek. "It's very good for the complexion!"

"Any chance I can get a cheeseburger in this joint?"

"No, silly!" Olga told Helga. "But you can get lasagna stuffed with clamstrips!"

"No thank you," said Helga pushing the menu booklet far away from her. She checked her watch. Noticing this, Olga rolled her eyes towards the door.

"Hm. Now when will your little friend get here? Oh! There he is!" said Olga clasping her hands together against her heart. "Now isn't he just adorable! Why it's your little schoolmate, Arnold! You know, I told him just the most amazing stories about you when he came over for his study session."

"You mean the most embarrassing ones," Helga rolled her eyes. That was a memory she did not like to be reminded of.

"Tsk, tsk!" said Olga waving a finger. "Mistakes aren't embarrassments, they're learning experiences! Why, if you never got stuck in an elevator between two fat people and accidentally wandered into the basement of the archeology museum and shipped in a crate to the edge of Hillwood until the postman heard you, then you never would have learned the benefit of asking people for help! You were always just so shy and modest and never wanted to ask help from anyone!" said Olga pinching Helga's cheeks. Helga's frown deepened as far as it could go but as usual, Olga didn't notice. "And if you never threw up on Grandma, you never would have learned not to eat right before going on a roller coaster! Or that time you got your tongue stuck to a post in midwinter. Or the time you got stuck by your hair ribbon on the merry-go-round. Or you mistook a soap bar for tropical cheesecake…"

"Uh, good evening!" said Arnold interrupting Olga's infuriating monologue. Helga breathed a sigh of a relief, but her fist remained on the table. He sat down in the chair, wearing his usual clothes but his hair slicked back so that it wasn't as unruly as usual. Helga cast a pleading gaze across the table and Arnold's mouth switched sideways into a frown for a moment. There was a lot of pressure here. He only hoped he would not disappoint.

"Look," he said holding up his hands in a gesture of good intent. "Helga has explained to me that you're against her partnering with me for the school project because I'm a boy. But let me assure you, I would never do anything to harm her or diminish her integrity. I will treat her with the utmost respect, so you have nothing to worry about with her participating in the contest with me. All that I ask is that you let us meet a couple of times this week to practice!" Arnold ended his beautiful speech with angelic smile that would charm even demons. But Olga held up a finger and tsked at Arnold as well.

"Tsk, tsk!" said she. "I know! Dear little Arnold! I can tell you are the most kind, sincere, polite, and even adorable boy! But that is all the more reason I can't let you have my baby sister!" said Olga grabbing Helga around her head and squishing her uncomfortably close in a loving, but really unpleasant headlock. Helga made grotesque faces as she struggled to break free.

"You see, Arnold," said Olga stroking Helga's head. "I know all too well the horrors of heartbreak! And my baby sister is too young, too delicate, too fragile, too simplistic to ever fully appreciate the dangers of love! If she were to dance with you, lost in your embrace as you swirled about chest to chest in the intoxicating rhythm of the classic waltz, why I know she would develop a crush on a dear, sweet, polite little boy like you! Which is why I simply can not allow it! I can not allow my baby sister to face temptation until she is at least sixteen!"

"What?!" both Arnold and Helga gaped. Neither were bold enough to voice that they already had quite the crush going. From both sides, now. It was much too late to prevent that!

"No, Helga, and that is final!" said Olga with a sniff. "But would you like a chocolate and herring sunday, Arnold? We were just about to order dessert!" Olga said as cheerfully as though she had just handed out flowers instead of a rejection. Arnold's face had become one of misery. His mouth twerked at its corners.

"No thank you," he said standing up from his chair. "I'd better be going. And Helga? Good night. See you at school on Monday?"

"Yeah," Helga miserably. Her own heart felt a break. Sadly, she watched Arnold walk out the door like a ship sailing far out to sea.

"Ah-ha!" said Olga plucking something out from her clutch-bag purse. It was a camera. "Now let's have a smile, ya big silly!" she said going for Helga's head again to force her into the camera shot. It was a miserable weekend for both Arnold and Helga. But on Monday they both were in the janitor's closet in council again.

"Okay," said Arnold slouched against the concrete wall. Helga slouched, too, and she paused to examine their shoes. It was the same sight she always saw for her own, but it was curious to see Arnold's shoes from this angle, with the toe of his little black shoe being far away instead of closest to herself. She wiggled her own toes to check on them.

"We tried it my way and failed. I guess you're right, Helga. Your sister is not easy to reason with."

"Duh!" said Helga flexing her eyebrows. "It's only what I've been saying like… forever! Olga is impossible! She kind of takes after Miriam. Oblivious. Always blowing things out of proportion…"

"Well," said Arnold doing some fast thinking. "I think you're right. We'll just have to try a different approach. Maybe we can do things YOUR way this time." Helga gaped. It seemed that time had stopped.

"Woah, woah, hold on there buster! What do you mean, MY WAY?"

"Well," said Arnold doing some fast talking. "We might just have to sneak around."

"Sneak around?" said Helga. The words triggered something. Off she went into a delirious wonderland full of roaring fireplaces and fuzzy slippers. She was wearing a dimorphous shimmering gown and Arnold was wearing a millionaire's coat as he looked up from his book in front of the fireplace. Dream Helga sat down and set a platter with two espressos on it on the carpet next to her. Then, lifting her cup, Dream Helga gently clinked her espresso mug against his as they both smiled flirtatiously toward one another in the roaring firelight. The real Helga's face had crumpled up with euphoric delight. A soft giggle escaped her lips.

"Snap!" Arnold's fingers snapped right in front of Helga's nose, startling her awake.

"Helllllooooo? Earth to Helga?!" said Arnold testing. Helga looked wildly all around her.

"Huh? Huh, huh? Where? How did we get in a broom closet?" she sputtered. Arnold rolled his eyes.

"You led us here to talk, remember? Now look, I know it isn't the greatest idea but try to see if there are times when you can convince your sister to leave you alone."

"You mean make excuses?"

"Well, it sounds really bad when you say it like that, but yes," said Arnold. "If we can just meet a couple of times we can prepare for the contest. Do you have any ideas?" Helga rubbed her chin. Quick as a wink, her mind filled with wicked possibilities.

"I do actually! Let's find the latest hall monitor and convince them to give us a couple of blank detention slips. Without actually asking them, of course!" said Helga chuckling. "Better yet, I know where a whole drawer of them are stored! We'll fill out a couple of slips for me and I'll flash them to Olga tonight. Then we can meet just after school for practice. Sound good, Arnoldo?"

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's genius Helga. Wicked, but genius just the same. I'm impressed."

"Funny how I grow on you, eh?" said Helga shaking Arnold's hand just because she could.

"Yeah," said Arnold shaking hers, too, because she had offered it. They were dance partners till the end. This moment was theirs, and no one was going to take it. Especially not Olga Pataki.


	3. Chapter 3

Desperate times called for desperate measures. At least that's what Arnold Shortman tried to tell himself when, after the last school bell of P.S. 118 rang, he deliberately loitered around in the boy's bathroom. His reflection could be seen in the long, silvery mirror. He checked his watch and then, staring out down a hallway which was now strangely sparse of people, Arnold crept down the hallway hoping the next person he would meet wouldn't be Principal Wartz.

The drinking fountain was just ahead. Turning around to check that no one was creeping up just behind him, Arnold backed up one steps, then two. On the third step he ran smack dab into Helga who doing exactly the same thing, peering down the hallway in the other direction.

"Ow!" Helga complained to herself. Both Helga and Arnold rubbed their shoulders of the bruises they had just given themselves. Then they turned to look towards one another and into their eyes for the first time that day. On the face of both friends was a wide smile.

"Ya made it! Arnoldo," Helga murmured in a way that Arnold found beautiful. He cleared his throat instead of saying so.

"Yeah, I did!" said Arnold grasping hold of Helga's hand and pulling her down the hallway with him. Helga floated along behind, dreamily. To be sneaking away from Olga with Arnold!

"Now it doesn't get any better than this!," Helga muttered to her locket rapidly as she waited for Arnold clear space to dance in. "Other than for Olga to go back to Alaska to stay, of course."

Helga had lowered herself behind a desk for a few seconds. When she stood up once again, she studied Arnold. He was dutifully pushing all the desks out from the center of the room to its very edges. When he was done, there was a fair amount of space to practice dancing in, Helga had to admit. She quivered in anticipation for Arnold to take her by the waist.

"Now we're going to have to pretend there's music," said Arnold catching her hand in his. Helga leaned against him with a dreamy sigh. There was music in her head, alright! Helga could hear the waltz in her imagination and soon, she could feel it too as her feet took flight, following after Arnold's.

"You're getting pretty good at this," Arnold complimented softly. Helga's knees grew weak and she almost collapsed, but then she shook her head violently to clear it. When she could think straight, she reconsidered the compliment and came up with a suitably witty reply.

"Well, I'm going to have to do a lot better than 'pretty good' if we're going to win this contest!" said Helga. "Five hundred dollars!" Plus the chance to dance with Arnold, Helga thought in her head.

"Anything you're going to buy with the money?" said Arnold trying to keep the conversation going more than anything else. It would be too easy, if they fell silent, for him to simply pull Helga against him and not let go.

"Uh, yeah! Doi. Of course I'm going to spend it! I might put a little away, of course, but the first thing I'm gonna do is eat a five pound bucket of Doctor Mac's spicy ribs! Then I'm going to the mall for some new rollerblades. My old ones are getting kinda small."

"Not a bad idea," said Arnold turning. He let Helga drift on the outer side of their small circle for a little longer before he stopped on the count of "four". Dropping his hands from Helga's shoulder and waist the boy stared. How had it come to this? How was it possible he had come to be this charmed by Helga? The boy simply didn't know.

But a very unwanted visitor passed by the door their classroom. Arnold and Helga were in plain view, but Olga Pataki had just passed them by in a flash, on her way to somewhere in a hurry. Helga gasped and covered her mouth with a hand.

"Was that?!" Helga blurted out before opening the door a crack and peeping out into the hall. Arnold peeped out, too, just above her in the doorway.

"It was!" he whispered back. Olga Pataki now stood before a classroom at the far end of the hall. It was the space where detentions were held regularly. The place where Helga was 'supposed' to be.

"Eep!" said Helga biting her nails for a moment. Then her eyebrows lowered in determination.

"I have to go, Arnold!" Helga whispered firmly. "I will see you tomorrow. We'll find another way instead!" With that, Helga stomped off down the hallway in a huff. She prowled right up behind Olga and glared at her sister, her arms crossed.

"Ahem!" said Helga as loud as she could. "What are you doing here?"

"Why baby sister!" cooed Olga. "I came to pick you up! It is just so sad you having detention! So I thought I'd cheer you up by taking you out to go chalk art viewing! And I have in mind a little patisserie, for those chocolate-stuffed croissant things," said Olga wiggling her fingertips delicately. "Now where were you?" Helga huffed.

"Can't a girl go the bathroom?" Helga complained swinging her arms around overhead with extra drama. "Criminy! This whole day stinks like Tuesday's tuna left in the can on Saturday."

"Oh, well I'm sure it's not that bad, silly!" said Olga. "You only have one more day's detention after this!"

"Oh, well, about that," said Helga speaking rapidly as she passed by the classroom where Arnold still hid. "Turns out tomorrow's slip was an accident. Duplication or something. My time is served."

As Helga and Olga disappeared out a set of twin metal doors, Arnold came out from Mr. Simmon's classroom and sighed. "Well! At least we got a half hour's practice in," the boy said checking his watch. Arnold caught a normal bus home from one the street's busy corners. As he walked in the door past the phone in the lower hallway, the telephone rang.

"Psst! Arnold!" came a familiar voice. "Meet me beside the tree outside my place at 9!"

"But Helga!" Arnold protested. "That's…" He was about to say, "past curfew for most kids," but Helga had already hung up the phone. All Arnold could hear was the dial tone.

It wasn't like Arnold didn't roam around much more than it was wise to do. Heck, for the whole FTI incident, he had pulled an all-nighter. But he was as surprised as clams in hot bath water when Helga tumbled down from the branches of the tree next to her window. As she brushed herself off, a yellow city cab pulled up along the street.

"Helga, what are you…" began Arnold. But Helga dragged him away. Helga nudged Arnold really forcefully into the cab and slammed the cab door behind her.

"Step on it, driver!" she said handing him a twenty dollar bill. They pulled away.

"Helga, what are we?" Arnold trailed off. Helga had her arms crossed and her eyebrows furrowed. She was staring out to the street through the cab window. Her fingers rapped on the edge of her arm.

"Here we are!" said their Pakistani cab driver friend. Arnold and Helga got out at the local diner, some of the letters peeling off its neon sign as usual.

"Come on!" Helga pleaded, tugging Arnold's cuff. "They've got a jukebox in there!" Wide-eyed, Arnold followed after. Helga traded a green money bill for a handful of coins from a smiling waitress. Helga put a quarter in the machine and selected a song.

"It isn't the waltz!" said Helga. "But it is a dance floor. Come on!" Arnold blinked.

"Well, okay!" he said trying not to listen to the music, but the steps of the waltz instead. He and Helga danced for nearly an hour. Then, growing hungry and tired, at last they sat down at one of the table booths and ordered some food.

"And did I ever tell you about the time I went fishin'?" said Arnold doing a convincing expression of his Grandpa. "Why, I caught a trout so big once, it nearly swallowed me whole when I reeled it in!" Helga giggled.

"That sounds just like him!" she laughed. "Wow, Arnold. You're good at impressions!"

"Just my Grandpa," Arnold explained. "I don't pretend to be anyone else. Oh, great! The food's here!" Arnold grinned as the waitress set two hamburgers down on the table before them. He lifted one up and took a big bite. But just then, the bell to the door tingled as the door swung open. Horrified, Arnold saw none other that Olga Pataki at the door with a huge armful of flyers. He ducked under the table to hide.

"Excuse me, miss!" said Olga holding up one of the flyers in her hand. Her mascara was running again and she sniffed. "Have you seen my poor, lost little sis?" Helga flinched. Every hand in the entire restaurant pointed straight towards her. Paralyzed, she waited for Olga to see her. Olga dropped her armful of flyers to the floor and ran straight for her.

"Oh, poor little sis!" said Olga grasping Helga in a tight bear hug. "I feared I would never see you again! When I woke up and didn't find you sleeping in your room, I was so afraid for you! What are you doing out here?" Still trapped in Olga's arms, Helga gave a nervous laugh.

"You know, just got hungry for a bite to eat!" Helga lied. Meanwhile, Arnold crawled away from the table on his hands and knees. Luckily, he was short enough to duck behind the jukebox for cover.

"Well, Helga," said Olga dropping Helga from her grip at last to give her sister her firmest tone. "You must never, ever, ever run away like that again! Am I clear? Now let's go home!" she said grabbing Helga by the hand. Helga tugged back in resistance just long enough to snatch up the hamburger she hadn't had time to eat before she was whisked away. When the diner door had closed, Arnold snuck out from behind the jukebox.

"Uh, sorry?' he said searching his pocket for money for their meals. It was a good thing he had come prepared for misadventure. The next day at school, Helga was full of scowls.

"And Olga is so convinced I can't trusted on my own for a second that she's going to hang around with me all Saturday, too! Sheesh! She's a thousand times worse a stalker than I am. Don't we have a ballgame on Saturday?"

"We do," said Arnold mindlessly playing with his lunch. "I'd rather we didn't repeat that particular fiasco, anyway."

"But we DO need time to practice," said Helga rubbing her chin. "At least one or two more times for polish. You know, I've got an idea! I'll invite Olga to Dinoworld on Sunday. Then I'll lose her in the crowd and walk right back out! She'll be searching for me for hours!"

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Arnold. "You'll get the whole park staff involved. Plus if you keep this up, you'll be grounded for life."

"Hm," said Helga doing some deep thinking. "How about the park, then?"

"Well, okay then," said Arnold although he felt some doubt in their plan.

On Saturday, Olga sat on the bleacher's throughout the entire ball game. Arnold and Helga didn't talk too much to arouse her suspicion. But on Sunday afternoon, Arnold hid inside a clump of green bushes in the park next to the bridge by the the pond. He checked his watch, waiting for Helga to make her appearance. Soon she did, hustling out from the bushes in another direction.

"Quick!" said Helga, grabbing Arnold's wrist as she ran by. She pulled Arnold all the way to a weed-overgrown but paved tennis court. The tennis net was ripped and sagging, but the surface below their feet was firm. Arnold gave a soft sigh, equal parts misery and happiness as Helga danced and he danced on the public court, looking over her shoulder frequently.

"Helga!" a voice echoed nearby them and Arnold jumped into the nearest clump of bush. Olga came stomping up.

"Now, stop running away!" Olga scolded Helga. "Before you make me cross, baby sister!" Helga grimaced as her nose was pressed by an angry Olga. When the two sisters had gone, Helga skidding along by her shoes as she was dragged, Arnold got out of the bushes from the other side. Arnold pulled out a couple of twigs that had gotten tangled up in his locks. He brushed himself off.

"Arnold, what are you doing?" Gerald said glaring at Arnold with a frown, a baseball glove in one hand. He had been playing catch in the park with Sid, his little sister Timberly watching from the side on her tricycle. Arnold stared back, unflinching.

"Nothing! Just out for a walk!" he lied boldly before whistling and walking away a bit too stiffly to be convincing. Gerald shrugged and threw the baseball to Sid again.

"You know," said Helga picking up her grilled cheese sandwich and giving it a glare at the lunch table the next day. "This isn't going well at all. Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't keep this up. I'm already in enough trouble as it is." Arnold grimaced.

"I'm sorry, Helga," the boy said. "We can stop meeting if you want to. But…" Arnold reached into his jeans pocket and pulled two tickets from within. "We've got a whole week and half before the contest! If you wanna try to practice the waltz one more time, there is a way." Helga picked up one of the tickets.

"Looks like some kind of charity fundraiser."

"Yeah, it is," said Arnold. Helga looked at the time.

"You know, this might work! Olga is planning to go out herself, I checked her calendar! So all I gotta do is get past Mom and Dad. I'll make an afternoon appointment with the dentist or something, and not go!"

"Great," said Arnold although it was anything but. His eyes were rounded with worry as well. All this sneaking around was tough!

The Charity Gala Ball for Kittens and Puppies was a lunchtime event, probably because almost all the participants were old women with canes. The crazy cat lady who lived near Phoebe's house was there, with a live cat draped over her shoulder and a feline-like grin. But so were Sheena and Eugene. Helga pointed them out to Arnold.

"Nah, they won't tell!" scoffed Arnold. "Especially Eugene if I ask him not to!" The only music was the radio playing softly overhead, but it was a real ballroom. Mostly, the room was crowded with tables full of food. There were more brownies there than Arnold had ever seen before in his life and many strange and mysterious kinds of potluck. He opened up one of the potluck dishes and closed it after spotting an octopus tentacle. Arnold moved to the next dish over and found chicken feet sticking up like a bird had just fallen into it. He shut that one more quickly than the first! Meanwhile, Helga dribbled something sloppy from a spoon.

"Looks like mustard pudding!" Helga said sniffing. Arnold caught her arm and steered Helga away from the food.

"Maybe we should just stick with brownies!" he said. "Unless you want to end up like Grandpa!" He held out and hand and bowed. "Well, ready to dance?"

"Let's shake it!" said Helga lending him her fingertips.

They practiced their waltz for a little while. Then, they froze like ice and grit their teeth in fear as an all too familiar voice carried towards them.

"It's Olga!" said Helga with so much horror her hair stood up on end. Both Arnold and Helga ducked down to the floor and crawling, made their way over to the buffet table to hid beneath it! A pair of heeled shoes clicked to the table just beside them.

"Hm," said Olga Pataki muttering to herself. "I could have sworn I just saw Helga and her little friend… silly! It must have been my imagination!" Helga tensed until Olga walked further away.

"Oh!" said Helga with horrible realization. "Why didn't I think of that?! This is exactly the kind of thing Olga likes going to! The appointment she had… Olga must have had tickets to come here, too!" But there was nothing to do about it now. Helga and Arnold crawled away towards the nearest door. Arnold paused only to "shh!" Eugene with a finger held silently up against his lips. Then they both got to the door and bolted through the exit.

"Whew!" said Helga wiping a hand across her sweaty face. "That was close! I don't know, Arnold. Maybe we should stop meeting… you know, before Olga does catch you!"

"It's worth it, I promise you!" Arnold said boldly. "I really think we have a chance at winning, Helga. You've gotten good!"

"Th...tha..thanks," she stuttered. "Well, maybe we won't embarrass ourselves, too bad. If I can get there at all," Helga muttered. But Arnold posed and stared at Helga with a smile.

"I believe you will find a way!" Arnold said with a small wink that left Helga's head reeling in confusion.

"What do you mean by that?! Are you sayin' I'm sneaky or somethin'?"

"It's supposed to be compliment," Arnold quarreled back. But it was a quarrel between friends, not a bully and a victim. They were long past that.

"Okay, fine, have it your way!" said Helga throwing her hands up. "I'll show up! One way or another!" But her words were mighty big considering Olga Pataki was determined that she not participate.

The day of the contest arrived. The morning was bright and beautiful but Helga was too nerve-wracked to enjoy it. She quickly packed up her best dancing shoes and dress into a little bag and hung it over her shoulder. Then, after tossing a rope ladder she had made especially for today out the window, Helga shimmied down to the first story of the house from the second story. She lost her grip and yelped, "ark!" when Olga popped her head out the kitchen window.

"Helga!" said Olga crossly. "Little sis, I told you that spending time with that boy is no good for you!" But Helga stood back up, then whirled on Olga with a snarl.

"I'm going Olga! And you can't stop me!"

"Uhhh!" Olga gasped in shock at Helga's rudeness. Her angry, dominant self was focused now on someone who she had shown it to the least. Olga. And there was good reason. As soon as Helga scowled so fiercely at her sister, the woman broke down into tears.

"Baby Sis! I'm only trying to protect you!" Olga wailed in tears as Helga fled on foot.

It was entirely possible that Olga would get Helga grounded for life when she got back. But she had promised Arnold, herself, and Mr. Simmons, too, for that matter. She had to get to that contest!

A short bus ride later, Helga snaked her way through a crowd to the entrance of the YMAA. As the owner of the largest, shiniest wooden floors in Arnold's neighborhood, it had been the site for many of Arnold's childhood memories already. Arnold had played basketball here. It was also the place his school held their dances and curiously, the place the televised contest 'Fighting Families' had rented, too, for the contest between Arnold's family and the Rockwells. Now Mr. Simmons had booked it for their dance contest.

At the entrance of the front door was someone selling tickets. But seated at a table nearby was another man, looking bored, blinking through his square glasses. Helga jumped the line to make her way over to him.

"Faculty or dancer?" he asked with a wide frown, suspicious that Helga was another kid trying to get in free.

"Dancer!" said Helga.

"Name?"

"Helga!" she said. "Partnered with Arnold Shortman!"

"How is your last name pronounced?" asked the man holding up the paper. "Patakchu?"

"Why do you care?" Helga sniffed.

"I'm the announcer," the man said with a frown as permanent as her unibrow.

"Nah, nah, nah! said Helga waving hand at him. "It's Helga, JUST Helga. I don't want people all over Hillwood talking about this!" She blushed.

Strolling inside, Helga noticed the dance contest was being held in the largest auditorium. The tall walls were decorated like for one of their school dances, with streamers and banners. But more noticeably. it was also decorated by colorful floodlights in soft tones of red and blue and yellow, eating away the surrounding dark of the huge space for bleachers. The whole ceiling was dotted with white balloons also, like stars. Already, there was music playing through the speaker system although it was many minutes till start.

What surprised Helga more than anything else was that there were many grownups here. Phoebe's parents, Rita and Kyo were here. So were Harold's parents, Jerry and Miriam Berman, even if his father looked unhappy. But a lot of the people here were complete strangers to her.

"Why hello, Helga!" said Mr. Simmons startling Helga from her examination of the mobbing scene around her. "Isn't this exciting? The turnout was a lot better than expected! There are people here from all over Hillwood! I think this fundraiser's gonna be a success! By the way, your friend Arnold is waiting over there," said Mr. Simmons pointing. Helga's gaze followed his finger over towards the boy who was modestly lifting his leather shoe off the ground two inches to check on it. Then he waited, a sad, worried expression on his face and arms folded behind his back as he waited. His grandparents, waiting beside Arnold, spoke something to him and he forced a wane smile. Helga forced her way past a bunch of women wearing ballroom dresses and appeared near Arnold and his family.

"Here I am!" declared Helga. Arnold looked relieved.

"Helga!" he said. Then he eyed her clothes. "You're wearing your normal dress."

"Well, duh!" said Helga patting the bag on her shoulder. "I've got to get dressed!"

"Well, the locker rooms are over there," said Arnold pointing. The home team one had been labeled "boys" and the away team one "girls" for tonight's competition. "You'd better change soon! The warmup is going to be any minute!"

"Sure thing!" said Helga. She hurried over to the locker room. Inside, she whipped on a pink, sparkling dress; white shoes and gloves to match; and put her hair up in bun with a tiny braid wrapped around its edges. She had a sparkling sequinned hair comb that looked like flowers to top it off with. Then, looking a lot like a pink version of Cinderella, Helga flounced out from the impromptu dressing room. She looked gorgeous and she knew it. And based on the look on Arnold face, she knew she was right.

"You look good," Arnold smiled. Helga smiled back at the boy, who was now standing alone.

"You're wearing a tie!" Helga puzzled, her hand under her chin. "You're usually wearing a bow-tie. What happened to that?"

"I've worn a tie before, Helga!" Arnold complained. "At the April Fool's Party, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" Helga mumbled. With a naughty smile slipping onto her lips, her hand snatched out and grasped Arnold's tie. She tugged on it firmly.

"Gerk!" Arnold said pitifully as Helga led him by the tie like a leash. His arms sagged. "I'm going to have to switch back to bow ties!" he complained. Helga and Arnold made their way to the dance floor. It was already crowded with couples who were stretching their legs and getting a last minute of practice in.

Arnold danced with Helga at the edge of the large crowd. They were feeling pretty positive about their dance technique when both saw something or rather someone who caused them to cringe with fright. Arnold and Helga tightened their grasp around one another out of fear.

"Olga?!" Helga gasped, staring up at none other than Olga Pataki wearing a fancy white, one-shouldered cocktail dress.

"Uh-huh! Baby sister!" she declared with a smile that almost as scary as a frown. "Since you're so insistent on coming here, Helga, I thought I'd come here, too!"

"Uh-huh," said Helga nervously. "That's nice… Well, I'll be seeing ya!" Helga took over Arnold's role of the dance for a minute to drag him far away before they fell into their more familiar roles, with Arnold dancing as the lead.

"What is she doing here?" Helga muttered to herself. "Man, she never gives up! I'm just glad she decided not to make a scene!"

But Helga had spoken way too soon! The many couples were lined up side by side and somehow, Olga Pataki had got herself a partner for the dance floor- the school nurse, Shelly. As Helga waltzed unwarily by, Olga Pataki whirled and cut in between her and Arnold!

"Huh!" said Helga finding herself suddenly being danced away from Arnold by Olga. But Arnold narrowed his eyes.

"Scuse me!" the boy said cutting in and changing partners so that he danced with Phoebe's Mom instead. Then he drew near to Helga and snatched her up again, leaving a surprised Olga with the tall redhead.

"Whew!" said Helga as they made their escape. "My knight-in-shining armor!" Arnold smiled at her. But in the space of a moment, Arnold found himself dancing with a horrified Peapod kid, who was replaced by his Grandma instead.

"Go get 'em Arnold!" she said, cackling. Arnold spun over to steal Phoebe from Gerald for a minute, then his Grandpa from a young attractive woman, then at last he was close enough to grasp Helga's fingers. She leapt away with him as the music for the warmup period ended, leaving Olga behind with Eugene.

"Wow, isn't this great!" said the boy before tripping over her dress. Olga fell to the ground beside the red-haired boy. But the one who helped both her and Eugene stand up was Olga's old co-worker from her teaching days, Mr. Simmons!

"Miss Pataki," said Mr. Simmons with stern kindness. "Don't you think you're being a tad overprotective?" Olga Pataki flinched from the blunt criticism.

"I...I...I…" stuttered Olga, shifting her eyes around guiltily. Mr. Simmons frowned at her, then smiled kindly.

"You know, keeping Helga all to yourself isn't going to make her like you more. It's only going to make her angry. And I'll tell you what- love isn't something that you can gain by force."

"I...I...I"m so sorry, Mr. Simmons!" Olga wailed, tearing up so that her mascara ran once again. If anything was predictable about Olga, it was that she spent a lot of trips in the bathroom. "I just wanted to keep Helga safe!"

"Then help her grow!" Mr. Simmons counseled. "Don't try to keep her an infant forever." Olga sniffed.

"You're right, Mr. Simmons… I just… I'm so sorry! I have been selfish haven't I? Well, no more! I'm going to find Helga right now and apologize!" Olga clenched her fists and got the gleam in her eyes like a cheerleader.

Meanwhile, Helga and Arnold had made their way to a cooler full of cold water. They both poured themselves a drink into little paper cups, looking over their shoulders anxiously.

"Just great!" Helga lamented. "After all this my sister will probably never let me see you again. She might not even let me play baseball."

"Don't say things like that!" Arnold fretted almost as much as her. But Helga wasn't finished venting her troubles.

"Arnold, I'm worried! What if this is our last time dancing together?" Helga's wide, beautiful blue eyes looked into Arnold's. The boy found it difficult to swallow enough to reply. The thought that after today they might not be dance partners anymore was sobering.

"Then let's make it the best time!" Arnold uttered, his throat deep with feeling. Arnold tested his fingertips on the back of Helga's hand before sliding his hand into hers. They stood there for a moment, just enjoying each other's company and smiling sadly as if this time, indeed was the last time for the magic of dance- together. The last time he would hold Helga's waist and smell her hair as it drifted near him. The last time she would be held by him and spin the rhythm he had set, drifting across the floor like they were clouds. Lost in the sorrow, the two kids looked up as Helga's name was called.

"Uh-oh!" said Arnold, his tall, spiky locks of unruly hair nearly trembling as Olga Pataki rushed over. But Helga's dark unibrow had lowered to its most southern point.

"Come on!" she coaxed Arnold, pulling Arnold by the hand away towards the storage room. "Aha!" she said finding a storage room with the door cracked open. There were basketballs inside and heaps of other junk. Helga plastered herself to the wall just inside the now wide-open door.

"Arnold, where's Helga?" Olga wondered out loud as she entered the locker room.

"Uh," Arnold uttered, confused. But just then Helga called out from inside the storage room.

"In here!" Helga called. "Come find me!" She grinned cruelly.

"What are you doing in there, ya big silly?" said Olga fondly, walking in the door past Helga. But it was two steps back and then Helga slammed the door on Olga. She shoved a piece of sports equipment against the door handle.

"Come on!" said Helga catching Arnold's hand once again and sprinting away. "Before she gets loose!"

"Helga!" Olga protested from inside the locked room. "This isn't a very nice game to play!"

But nice wasn't exactly the best way to describe Helga Pataki. She and Arnold made their way to the dance floor. They waited their turn. The kids would all be dancing first, just so they did not get discouraged. The couples from P.S. 118 were there- Gerald and Phoebe, Stinky and Gloria, and Harold and Big Patty. But there were quite a few other kids, too, some not even from their school but who wanted to participate. Young Smite P. Higgins was there dancing with a girl of his choice. Last of all came Arnold and Helga. They moved to edge of the masking tape line that ran the space of the floor and waited to be announced.

"And now," said the announcer in his deep, rolling drumroll voice. "Let me introduce Helga and Arnold Shortman!" Arnold jumped on his feet and blushed. Helga's cheeks stained a deep crimson.

"Heh, heh, heh! Must be some misunderstanding with the announcer, but that's us!"

"Right," said Arnold carefully directing his dance partner to the dance floor. When some of the blush had faded, they waited for the music to play and one thought crossed Helga's mind. She spoke it out loud.

"Let's make it the best time," Helga sadly echoed Arnold's words earlier. The music began to play and they danced, sweeping along with one another, the melody of their footprints tight. As one, they were a summer's warm wind. They turned in boxy circles, flowing ever round in practiced comfort. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four!

But in their hearts was both longing and sorrow. Tenderly, they clung to one another, wondering if this night was indeed the last time they would be together- the last waltz. After tonight, Arnold realized, the contest would be over. He gripped Helga all the tighter around the waist, held her shoulder and watched her face yet more gently.

After tonight, she could no longer trick Arnold like she used to, Helga thought. Her sister would forever stay between the two of them and it would be tough to get a moment alone with her beloved. Sighing, she lowered her cheek and snuggled it against Arnold's chest, drawing in the warmth and beat of his heart while she had it- for a few moments longer. Then the dance was over and Arnold and Helga stopped to tremendous cheers.

"Whew!" came the sound of quite a few whistles amid applause. Arnold and Helga flushed bright red again as they realized all the world had been watching their little exchange. Arnold led Helga off the dance floor, her hand held high over both their heads. But what they didn't expect to see was Olga Pataki kneeling on the sideline, bawling the last bit of makeup off her face.

"That was.. That was… the most romantic, beautiful, waltz I have ever seen!" said Olga beginning to cry again. "Bwahahaha!" Arnold and Helga exchanged a look, then left her sister to her own devices. They had better things to worry about. Like accepting their prize money. They were pretty sure they had nailed it.

"And the winners of the children's division classic waltz and five hundred dollars are... Helga and Arnold Shortman," said the announcer causing Helga's eyes to twitch again.

"Heh, heh, heh," she laughed weakly as a grown-up came to hand them their prize. Curiously enough the top judge who handed the check to them was none other than the mayor of Hillwood.

"Congratulations to the happy couple!" she said handing Arnold the check for five hundred dollars. "Any idea what to spend the money on?" Arnold gave Helga a look.

"We'll have to talk about it," said he. The mayor checked her watch.

"Well, I'd love to stay, but I have some weddings to officiate! Ta-ta now!" The brown-haired, deep-tanned, smiling woman hurried off. Helga and Arnold looked down at the check.

"Well, since it's got your last name on it," said Helga, "how about you hold onto the cash and I'll spend it?"

"Deal," said Arnold. "That's one hamburger already," he said thinking of the meal Helga had skipped out on paying for thanks to Olga.

"Hey!" Helga complained mildly as they made their way towards a quieter portion of the room. They both frowned as Olga Pataki found them again.

"Arnold, Helga!" said Olga Pataki lowering herself so that she was at eye level with the two kids. "You know what, I've thought long and hard about it and after seeing what I have tonight, I've decided! I won't tell Mummy and Daddy! And," she said revving up for the announcement like a game show host, "out of the vast generosity of my soul, I'll even let you have one date together! I'll let you," Olga said speaking to Arnold, "take Helga out for the movies on Saturday! Only I'll be the chaperone!"

"What's a chaperone?" asked Helga, her brow flexing in bewilderment.

"You know!" said Olga flexing her fingers in delight. "Someone to watch things so that your little hormones don't get out of control! I'll follow you everywhere! So it's the movies for the three of us on Saturday!"

"Uh, I don't…" began Arnold thinking that hanging out with Olga Pataki and Helga was a bad idea. But then again, was it? It was better than offending Helga and fleeing Olga for his life.

"Well, okay," the boy agreed timidly, giving Olga a handshake. Olga beamed. The walked outside the YMAA as the commuter bus was pulling up.

"Okay!" said Olga beaming. "Come along, little sis!" Helga was startled and not a little offended to find herself being carried upside-down like a handbag at Olga's side.

"Bye, little friend!" said Olga waving a cheerful goodbye as she strode aboard the bus with Helga still held like a suitcase and wearing a very miserable frown.

When Helga appeared at the back of the bus window, pressing her nose against the glass window like a terrified rat trapped in a cage, Arnold felt very sorry for Helga. Her life officially 'sucked' now. With Olga staying at home for the time being, Helga wasn't going to catch a break from her horrible, overbearing older sister anytime soon. Of course that applied to her friends as well. Arnold shuttered, feeling rather sorry for himself.

Saturday came and Arnold did watch a movie with Helga. Stinky Peterson sat two seats over from Arnold's right, sipping a soda. But seated side by side, Arnold and Helga shared a single tub of buttery popcorn.

"You know," said Helga murmuring softly. "Olga was right. This sappy movie isn't half bad. For chick flick, that is!" Arnold gathered a handful of popcorn from the bucket and stuffed it in his mouth, declining comment.

The movie flashed overhead but Arnold's attention was drawn more to the familiar blond-haired girl at his side as their fingers fought for the last scrap of popcorn. Their fingertips, brushed. His heart pounded. Maybe, if he leaned a little closer, his breath would mingle with hers. Maybe, Helga would lean a little closer, too… It was as the two kids leaned a little closer over the popcorn bucket that Arnold felt a violent tug choking him around the neck. Olga Pataki had yanked his collar. With a swift, hard tug, Olga pulled Arnold all the way back down into his seat by his shirt. Helga experienced a similar, horrible experience.

"Nah-ah, mister!" said Olga tsking at Arnold. "Lips off! Since you're out of popcorn," the older Pataki said rolling her eyes mischievously. "You two can have my bucket!" said the woman reaching over from the row of seats behind them and plopping down a paper container full of popcorn. Helga humphed and folding her arms, looked angrily into the corners of the room. Two seats over in the row from Arnold, Stinky Peterson stopped drinking his soda.

"That really bites!" the boy said, much sympathy in his southern drawl.

"Tell me about it!" said Arnold trying to loosen the collar he had just been choked with. Maybe he had gotten whiplash as well! The end.

 **Author Note: I decided to have a whole Olga story arc so there are going to be several fanfic "episodes" with her appearing in them. Olga is shipped out and the story arc ends during the fanfic, Ancestors, during November. So she hangs around for several months to torment Helga. Sorry! But I hope you liked the story otherwise.**


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